


True Weakness

by WikkityTweak



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: F/M, Other, Pon Farr, Post Dominion War, Romance, Slow Burn, Vulcan, Vulcan Culture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-18 17:21:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5936617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WikkityTweak/pseuds/WikkityTweak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A surprising new recruit is accepted aboard the USS T'Kumbra. OC/Solok</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Recruits

"Careful!" Barkley fumbled to keep his PADDs together, but Iris had unexpectedly come around the corner at warp one. The delicate devices all clattered to the floor.

"I'm so sorry!" Iris dropped to her knees, helping her favorite professor pick up his belongings. "It's just that I got my first assignment, and I'm on my way to find out where it is."

"That is good news, but no reason to ignore basic training. _Never_ run in the corridors."

Iris nodded profusely, "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir." She fidgeted in place while Barclay set himself straight.

"I taught you better than that," he said, a stern look on his face.

"Of course, I'm _so_ sorry," her face had gone bright red from embarrassment.

Barclay leaned in close, and his frown melted into a grin - "now go find your position aboard the Enterprise."

Iris beamed, "Thank you!"

It had been three long months waiting to apply to Enterprise. After the Dominion war, everything had gone on hiatus. The majority of ships had returned home. A few patrolled the borders, but nonessential exploratory and science vessels were docked. Few took on new recruits, which left most newly graduated Starfleet officers in a state of uneasy deferment.

But one by one, ships had begun returning to their pre-war posts.

Starfleet ensigns were allowed to apply to any ship, but only three at a time. The rule was you had to hear back from all before applying again.

Everyone wanted on the Enterprise, but few made it. The trick was to hedge your bets; apply to one high-ranked ship and two lower-ranked ships, so you'd at least get on one.

But Iris only had eyes for the Enterprise.

She could hear the ding of her comm from the corridor, and she upped her pace like a toddler told not to run around the pool.

 _'There's always time to make it somewhere better,'_ her friends had said when she revealed her plan. Iris wasn't going to play it safe. She was going to apply to the Enterprise and two other ships she was sure would reject her.

 _'What if they do accept you? You'll look ungrateful if you reject a position,'_ and it was true. But she did her research. First was the Excelsior – a ship captained by a man with a grudge against her father that was older than she was. And for the second? The USS T'Kumbra, a notoriously Vulcan-only ship captained by the equally notorious captain Solok.

The metal plaque for 3G was in sight, and she squealed in anticipation as she neared the door.

Worse case scenario – she'd get three rejections. It would hurt, but ultimately it'd be fine. She could study harder, prove herself, and reapply until the Enterprise said yes!

Iris tore into her dorm, startling her roommate who had been studying.

"Holy light!" exclaimed the Bajoran woman. "What's gotten into you?"

But Iris ignored her as she tapped furiously to open the comm and view her message.

She read the first paragraph, and at first the words didn't make any sense. She read them three times.

"Iris?"

But she was gone, stunned. She could taste the bile rising in her throat.

~000~

Captain Solok had spent the past week pouring over PADDs, reviewing information from every possible new recruit. He'd had two openings on his senior staff, but those were the easiest to fill. He'd kept a short list on-hand during the duration of the Dominion war, and he'd already sent requests to Vurak and T'Sala of Vulcan.

It was much harder finding junior staff. So many wanted in, and while he would not permit himself to take joy in it, he did note that a higher percentage of students applied to his ship over the Vulcan Science Academy.

Taking a short break, he replicated himself a hot mug of K'Vass and stood looking out the porthole.

 _'You will try again next cycle,'_ his father had said _. 'There is no logic in quitting.'_

Something trickled down his wrist. He sat the overflowing mug down and stared at his trembling hand. K'vass seeped into the cuff of his shirt. He curled his fingers into a fist and steadied himself.

He was captain of the most successful ship in the federation; highly decorated and thrice now awarded the Christopher Pike Medal of Valor. His papers had been published, widely distributed and read over a million times by those within the quadrant. There was no logical reason for him to remember the failings of his youth.

He sat back at his desk, flipping through the profiles of prospective applicants at a rate of 5 per minute. It was the end of the week, and he had several reports to look over. He would need to complete this task by the end of the night.

T'Lal of Vulcan – Medical. No top marks although she did come from a prestigious school. He briefly imagined her, a painfully average doctor with the air of superiority that all who'd come from the capital city had - he rejected her application.

T'Prin of Vulcan – Engineering. She had the same light-colored eyes as he and everyone from their region did. She'd been top of her class, and worked aboard the Explorer for two years. He accepted her application.

Jiavre Trix of Betazed – Medical. An accomplished psychic who'd served on the Borgiesia for five years. He spent an extra thirty seconds considering her. She could be an asset, however, the Betazoids were an emotional species in need of similar companionship. It was a difficult decision, but he rejected her application. He believed she would have an unsatisfactory experience aboard the T'Kumbra, and there was a 96.24% chance she would request a transfer within one year.

Sobek of Vulcan – Engineer. Son of the ambassador to Tellar Prime. He wanted in as a lieutenant despite never having worked on another ship. If rejected, it was likely Solok would receive a call from his own father asking why. After all, Sobek's clan was high status. Still, Solok rejected him.

Jub'ok Cun of Qo'noS – rejected. A Klingon would be a disaster.

Iris Wade of Terra – Solok's eyes tripped over the name. He hadn't had a Terran apply to T'Kumbra in over 12 years. After his fourth post-graduate paper comparing the psychology of their kind to Vulcans, they'd stopped applying altogether. Even before that, he'd never allowed a Terran on ship for a myriad of reasons. He paused while going over her transcript.

She was fresh out of the Academy, applying for a position as a security officer. It was one of the few positions he'd allow someone with no previous work experience.

Iris had studied criminal psychology, earned top marks and published two papers already. She claimed to be an expert in several different fighting techniques, although in such a slow and weak Terran body he doubted her effectiveness.

He paused at her picture. Her face and neck were slim, so he guessed the rest of her would be as well. _Weak._ She had bright green eyes and thick brown hair that was far too long to be professional. In ID photos everyone was supposed to be without expression, but he didn't miss the slight uptick of her mouth – a smirk. So she was one of those - young, no experience, but overconfident none-the-less.

He'd met enough shy and awkward humans to know it wasn't characteristic of the species, but every now and then he'd meet one who was a cut above the rest in terms of arrogance.

He laid the PADD back down and allowed himself the faintest scowl. It had been one year, three months, six hours and forty-two minutes since he'd been embarrassed in front of his entire senior staff by another cocky human – Benjamin Sisko.

_I fail to see why you are celebrating. The Ferengi's bunt was an accident. And you still lost the game._

_You're absolutely right – and you know what – I couldn't be happier._

Solok's insides burned as he remembered Sisko's cohorts all piling on.

_That sounded positively defensive to me._

_With a hint of anger._

_Plus a touch of jealousy._

_And a lot of bitterness._

_Are you always this emotional?_

"Ridiculous," Solok said aloud. He had been 98.3% sure that the encounter in the Holosuite would play out like the first time he'd engaged with Sisko, but it had not. He still didn't understand what had come over the once easily compromised human, or why the DS9 crew seemed so happy despite having lost the game. Their baffling reactions made the data collected unusable, and he was left without material for his newest paper.

He stared at Iris Wade's smirk, his finger hovering over the response.

He accepted her application.


	2. Bearings

The stares and whispers followed Iris until the day she left. She knew exactly how the news had spread so fast, and before leaving she'd set a trap in the communal replicator for Vreeli. That Bajoran wouldn't be getting her typical Raktajino for a while.

Iris stared out the porthole. She knew down to the meter how large T'Kumbra was; she'd reviewed (for the 100th time) its blueprints during the journey. And yet up close, it seemed so much bigger. Her guts felt like squirming gagh.

It had been so easy to ignore the whispers until now.

_'It's not like she's a top engineer.'_

_'Didn't she get in a fight with a Klingon on her first day?'_

_'She's gonna make us all look bad.'_

_'I bet that's exactly why Captain Solok chose her.'_

Added to her own, the negative thoughts played on a loop in her mind. She'd even made the mistake of reading all of Solok's papers –

_…We were there simply to observe, but in their inebriated state (and possibly even sober), the humans took offense to this…_

_…At first the debate was civil, but each new fact my colleagues and I presented only served to anger them more…_

_…In the end I had no choice but to accept the ill-conceived challenge. In my youth I was optimistic about humanity's potential for logic, and I truly believed I might yet educate Benjamin Sisko…_

Aside from the Bolian who'd done little to quell her fears – _'Aren't Vulcans very dull? Why would you want to spend a year with them?'_ – Iris was alone during the trip. She was the only human en route, after all.

But now they had reached their destination, and she watched as the pod docked and the T'Kumbra connected with them. She wasn't the type of person who fainted, but that was looking like a possibility.

With a hiss of air, the portal opened and Iris saw one lone Vulcan woman. She had all the trademarks of their kind – olive-tinted skin, pointed ears, terrible haircut – and yet she was different from the ones Iris was used to. She wasn't very tall, and she was a little thick. Her face was round and her lips thin. Based on the handful of Vulcans Iris had known at the Academy, she assumed they were all tall, symmetrically flawless elves. But this woman was … _average_.

"I am T'Por, and I will show you to your quarters."

Iris did her best to wipe any hint of emotion off her face. Before leaving she'd spent over eighty hours with an acting coach. Together they'd worked on various techniques for controlling emotions and appearing calm. Iris yearned for the small pocket mirror in her satchel. If she could just pull it out and check her face she'd know for sure if she were pulling off a detached look.

"Thank you," Iris said, and she followed the Vulcan woman.

"There were forty-two available units for new ensigns. Each unit holds two persons. Generally, we allow people to choose their roommates, and rooms are chosen by first arrivals," T'Por said.

Iris had to quicken her pace to keep up with the woman. She already knew it would be the case on an all-Vulcan ship, but the gravity here was much stronger. Much more like Vulcan than Earth, and she had to work to maintain a normal walking speed. She was thankful they didn't share the same philosophy for the atmosphere – the Starfleet sanctioned oxygen levels were well within her comfort zone.

"However, we only have eighty-three new recruits," T'Por continued, and pressed a button for the turbo-lift.

When the doors opened T'Por paused her speech and entered. Iris dawdled, staring at the faces of at least twenty Vulcans who all looked at her like she was a lab specimen.

Once inside the human turned around and promptly stared at her feet. She could feel eyes all over her. She squeezed the leather grip on her suitcase, trying to relieve some tension.

Luckily they were only on the lift for one floor. Ensign quarters were in the lower decks, so it wasn't far from the docking ports.

"They've already settled in," T'Por said, coming to a halt at one of the doors.

"So I'm alone," Iris said, and T'Por opened the unit.

"For the time being," she said, and Iris took a step in.

The quarters were plain but spacious. At least here she could adjust the temperature controls. She wasn't sure, but it felt like eighty degrees in the corridors. Sweat had already begun to drip down her back.

She turned back to T'Por, "Thank you for showing me to my quarters."

"There is an introductory meeting tonight in Ten Forward. As an ensign it is required that you attend. Directions to the room can be found—"

"It's all right. I've studied the T'Kumbra quite thoroughly already," Iris said.

T'Por nodded, "I would expect no less."

Iris had to fight to stop herself from showing confusion, "But you were about to show me directions?"

"Yes, well," T'Por began, and if Iris didn't know better she would have thought the Vulcan was embarrassed, "They told us a human ensign might require more instruction."

The comment burned her, but Iris swallowed her feelings quickly. She wouldn't survive very long if she let every slight get to her.

"Well, I appreciate any help you can give me. If the information is superfluous, I will let you know," she said and gave a slight bow. The Vulcan nodded and left without another word.

Iris dropped her bag on the bed closest to the bathroom. On any other ship, an ensign getting a room to themselves would be like winning the lottery. But here she worried that it may not be such a good thing. A Vulcan roommate might've helped her meet people or get acclimated faster. As it were, she was alone. Even more so than she expected.

~000~

"They have a powerful odor."

"Like the Orions?"

"No. Theirs is an unpleasant one. During my time at the Terran academy I became accustomed to it."

Iris stopped dead in her tracks. She stood just outside Ten Forward, and by the sound of it there weren't many people inside yet. There were at least two Vulcans however.

"Where does it originate?"

"No one area. They have glands all over their bodies. When they become too hot, a fluid is excreted that cools them."

"How inefficient. Can they not simply lower their temperature?"

"They are not capable of this."

"Interesting. And at what temperature does this occur?"

"It varies depending on the human, but this one is pale which usually indicates ancestry from a colder region. Based on my experience I'd say that our new ensign will be constantly overheated."

"That is…unfortunate."

At that moment Iris was profoundly happy she'd decided to take a shower before coming down. And thankfully she'd brought along programs necessary to replicate extra strength deodorant and perfumes. Of course, she wasn't wearing any perfume right now. After a quick glance around, Iris sniffed her underarms just to make sure.

"Ensign—"

Iris dropped her arms with a clap and turned to find the owner of the calm voice addressing her.

~000~

When Solok approached the human, she'd been standing outside Ten Forward alone. He couldn't discern why, but humans often took confusing actions.

"Sir," she said with a slight bow of her head. Her cheeks were very red, but he assumed that was intentional. Females of their species had the curious habit of painting their faces with various pigments and creams. He had never gotten a clear answer as to why they did it, but assumed it had something to do with their overwrought mating rituals.

His eye fell to the glittering pendant around her neck. A blue sapphire surrounded by diamonds. She fingered it as he stared.

"Perhaps you have not had time to read the guidelines for dress here, but we do not wear makeup or jewelry."

"Makeup? I-I'm not—," the human stammered and stopped. After straightening herself she began again, "I'm sorry, sir. Being that this is a social event, I chose to dress a little more formally. I would not wear anything like this on duty."

Solok nodded, "I see. For future reference, it is not required during social events either."

~000~

Iris nodded and stared at her shoes while Solok passed her en route to the gathering.

Once inside, Iris made a beeline for the bar. She saw her reflection in the mirrored wall behind the liqueurs; the red burn of embarrassment had spread from her cheeks to her neck. Her expression was, at least, stone-like. She supposed her first interaction with the notorious Solok went better than expected, with only a slight admonishment from him. Next time she would do better.

From her safe space she noted the two Vulcan males who'd been talking about human body odor. Did they have no tact? They knew a human would be coming, but still they stood loudly discussing how the only one aboard would likely smell bad. When one of the males caught her eye she turned away quickly.

Part of her felt frivolous for dressing up, since most of the Vulcans here were still in uniform. But at the same time she was glad for her modest dress with its bare shoulders and scooped neckline. As more people filtered in, the eighty-degree temperature crept up another ten.

She drank an iced beverage that had looked like lemonade, but sadly did not taste like it.

"Is there some significance about the jewel you wear?" Someone asked, and when she turned she felt her cheeks flame anew. Addressing her was the one of the BO-curious men, and next to him stood his cohort.

"My parents gave it to me. To congratulate me on my assignment here," she said.

"Do humans often give their offspring gemstones?"

"Sometimes. But others—"

"I've noticed humans have an affinity for shiny rocks. Particularly women," said the Vulcan, addressing his friend more so that her.

"It's not just women," she said, a little insulted.

"Back when they used currency the expensive jewels spoke to one's status," the same Vulcan spoke over her.

"It's really just decorative—" she said, taking care not to raise her voice.

"I see. So it's more about announcing a pedigree?"

"And my parents replicated it—" she tried again.

"Yes. I believe she is attempting to display her worth."

"Can you not hear me?" She said, far too loudly. Both Vulcans, as well as a few surrounding, turned to look at her.

~000~

Across the room, Solok's watched the events unfold with a slight smirk. It seemed his assessment of the human had been spot on, and he expected her to provide many useful data points.

"I still cannot understand why you chose a human ensign," said T'Ri.

Solok turned to face the lieutenant.

"There were several reasons," he said, unwilling to elaborate further. "Has your brother been released from medical?"

"He has not, and I am meant to tell you – he will miss tonight's festivities."

"Understood," Solok said. He noticed that the slim Vulcan woman had stepped two inches closer to him.

"Any word on the mysterious photon emissions?" She asked, tilting her head to the side. This close her scent was unmistakable, and she knew it.

"That would be at first discussed with my number two. You will be debriefed if necessary," he said and stepped back a foot.

T'Ri stared at him for a second too long and nodded, "Understood, sir."

~000~

Iris cranked the temperature controls down to sixty and flopped on her bed. She'd nearly punched a Vulcan tonight. Well, about five of them. Somehow she'd been roped into a debate about the merits of human creativity at the expense of memory capacity. It was hard to argue clearly when so many of them piled on her. And it seemed every Vulcan was in possession of a sharp tongue. Too bad comebacks had never really been her strong suit.

So sure, punching one of them would have shattered every bone in her hand, but it would have been satisfying.

After taking another shower, Iris replicated some lotion and covered herself with it. After all this washing she was sure to have dry skin.

She laid out her uniform and set an alarm. They were closer to Vulcan than Earth, so any comm messages would take a few days to be received. All she could do was lie in bed and try to sleep.

~000~

"Father," Solok had been in his ready room for less than five minutes when the call came in. For productivity sake, it would be beneficial when they were out of range of Vulcan.

"Ambassador Stulan informs me that his son was rejected for a position aboard T'Kumbra."

More so than with anyone else, Solok had to control his emotions when speaking to his father.

"He lacked professional experience," Solok said.

"For an ensign?" his father asked.

"He applied as a lieutenant," Solok said, and his father went briefly silent.

They stared at each other through the comm, both understanding of the situation but unwilling to speak of it. It was a game anyone from the outer regions would be familiar with.

"You could have written back and offered an ensign position," his father finally spoke up, and Solok felt his chest tighten. At once he recognized the angry emotion, and with practiced ease he neutralized it.

"If an applicant cannot correctly determine their own capability, I will not do it for them," he said, and his father looked ready to say something else but there was a ding at the door. "I must go. We are leaving close range tomorrow, so I will speak with you again in six months when we return," Solok said and shut off the comm before his father could speak. "Enter."

In walked V'Lido, his second in command.

"Sir, we have further information on the unknown photon emissions," V'Lido said and placed a PADD on Solok's desk.

"And?"

"Based on the remnants, Tuval believes they are from a yield of 5 isotons."

With a quirked brow Solok raised the padd. He reviewed Tuval's equations for accuracy thrice. They were correct, but confusing.

"Even Starfleet micro-torpedos produce a yield greater than 5 isotons," Solok said, and V'Lido nodded.

"It would explain why no nearby bodies recorded a weapons discharge," V'Lido added.

"Do we have a likely route?"

"Coordinates are there," V'Lido said with a nod. "If we follow we would not be off schedule for longer than a month."

"Make it so," Solok said. "If someone is firing in this sector, even with feeble weapons, we must find out why."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, this is going to be a slow-burn fic. I just don't think Solok would be an easy to get man, especially for a human. ^_~ But I do know where I'm headed with this, so hopefully you'll stick with me. Please review if possible! It keeps me going.


	3. Minutia

Minutia.

It had become Iris's first true lesson aboard the T'Kumbra – Vulcans thrived on minutia.

Schedules were sent to all ensigns prior to the start of the quarter, and she could hardly believe what they'd laid out. Everything was down to the minute - 30 for breakfast and 45 for calisthenics at _0715_ hours.

She knew coming in that the days aboard an all-Vulcan ship would be longer because their kind didn't require as much rest. But this was 12 hours meticulously planned, even including activities before _and_ after duty! No break time. No leisure. Personal time began _after_ 1845, so roughly 3 hours before she'd have to be in bed.

Her first reaction to the schedule had been to cry, but she tried to stay positive. Perhaps it wouldn't take long to acclimate.

Or maybe she'd go insane after the first week.

As she stood amid the gentle sonic pulses, she wondered what type of person could live their entire life meted out like this.

~000~

Solok awoke precisely at 0600 hours. He'd reset his internal alarm from the usual 0545 on account of the introductory meeting last night.

On the way to the bathroom he instructed the replicator to run first meal program #3 at 0615:10.

It took him 5 minutes to shower and 4 minutes to shave; during which he ran several quantum calculations in his head and made note to send the proofs along to Tuval once he was on the bridge.

Another 6 minutes was spent changing into his uniform, and in that time he decided what to do about the personnel issue regarding ops. There were 13 possible candidates to fill the temporarily vacant post. He weighed each of their accomplishments and came to the conclusion that T'Nal would be best suited to the role. He'd schedule a meeting with her during his empty time slot at 1345 to inform her of the promotion.

It then took him 10 seconds to walk from the closet to the console upon where his breakfast had just finished replicating.

So far the morning was acceptably efficient, despite the late start.

Before he could grab the plate, his communicator dinged.

"Yes?"

"Captain, your presence is required," said V'Lido.

"I will be in my ready room at 0645 hours," he said.

"I know, sir. But a passenger has just arrived. We will need you in the shuttle bay."

Solok raised a brow, irked by the unexpected visitor.

"Very well."

~000~

Iris had spent 30 minutes eating breakfast, but she should've spent 20.

She hadn't expected the dining hall replicators to carry only Vulcan dishes, and she hastily decided on something so as not to hold up the line. Choking down what appeared to be a mossy Tribble was a little harder than eggs and toast might've been. And unfortunately the closest-looking thing they had to coffee or Raktajino tasted like spicy liquorish.

After spending the full time allotted for breakfast, she was running late for her next session. Not for the first time, she was glad to have memorized the ship's layout.

All security officers were required to attend extra calisthenics classes, due to the nature of their jobs. But after working up a sweat, Iris couldn't just slip back into uniform (unlike her new Vulcan peers) – she needed a shower.

Everything seemed to snowball, but somehow she'd managed to sneak in to the tactical room just as the doors closed.

She took the last place in a row of board-straight ensigns. Embarrassingly, her labored breathing was the only sound in the room.

At the head of a long conference table stood two females. One was curiously short with eyes bluer than the ocean at South Beach on Earth. The other was a more standard Vulcan height, with legs that took up most of it. She had the perfectly proportioned, perfectly symmetrical face that Iris had come to expect from their kind. Hers was a beauty that demanded attention, no matter the viewer, but Iris soon regretted her unconscious staring when the Vulcan raised a brow at her.

The shorter female began,

"I am T'Sala – chief of security aboard T'Kumbra. Currently there are 80 security specialists onboard. Those of you in this group will form squadron 3. To my left is your immediate superior, Lieutenant T'Ri. She will instruct you further when I am gone," she nodded an acknowledgement to T'Ri and continued,

"Before coming aboard this ship you took an oath to the Federation – one of the most important tenets of that oath is to protect life. As security officers, an unfortunate reality of our job is that this is not always possible. As such, I require an extra provision from all my staff. Together we will take a new vow to protect the life aboard this ship, even at the cost of our own. If there are any here who do not wish to do this, you may leave now."

Iris glanced down the aisle of her peers. All remained stationary, and for the first time she felt a connection to them.

"Very well," T'Sala continued, "raise your right hand and repeat after me."

Iris stood tall, her body firm, and her spirits lifted. She'd waited a long time for this.

So it wasn't the Enterprise. But she could apply later. For the time being she was here. And as she repeated after T'Sala, she felt the words sink into her bones. She knew she was showing emotion – beaming, proud, ecstatic emotion. But for the next two minutes she allowed it.

~000~

Solok paced his ready room and tried to suppress the powerful emotion in his gut. Before he'd thought of retreating to his room for some impromptu meditation but decided against it. His schedule was tight with all the new recruits and senior staff meetings, and if he wanted time on the bridge he'd have to get through this.

He stood in front of the porthole, closed his eyes and clasped his hands together. Raw anger surged through him. Other negatives threaded in and out – embarrassment, powerlessness, _betrayal_.

The door dinged right when he felt he was about to cry out. It sobered him, and he crushed the emotions down. They were not gone, but controlled.

In walked his new chief of security – T'Sala.

"Captain," she addressed him with a slight bow, and he nodded back.

She seated herself only after he did. Perhaps in time she'd adopt some of the familiarity his former chief of security had.

"Have you met with all squadrons?"

"Yes, captain," she said and handed him the PADD in her hand. He set it aside for the moment.

"What is your overall assessment?"

"I believe the dispersion of senior officers is inefficient. There are too many on squadron 1, while 3 and 4 are composed mainly of ensigns. It would be beneficial to redistribute them."

"I will allow it. Previous distributions were the work of my former chief of security, and his algorithms were based on our wartime status," he said, and picked up the PADD to review the current rosters.

"Understood, sir," T'Sala said.

"I do have one request," he said.

"Yes?"

"I see the Terran ensign, Iris Wade, is on squadron 3. That should remain," he said.

T'Sala tilted her head to the side. It was the closest their kind came to indicating confusion.

"What reason is there for this request?"

"Squadron 3 is often tasked with lower risk duties. I'd rather the Terran be in a situation where brute strength is not required."

T'Sala stared at Solok for exactly 6 seconds.

"I do not understand," she said. "If her capabilities are in question, why is she aboard T'Kumbra?"

Solok straightened in his seat. He would not lie, but luckily the answer was two-fold.

"It is simple strategy. If what I've read about Terrans is true, squadron 3 is her best placement."

And it was a good way for him to observe her kinds' supposed virtues, since squadron 3 rarely left ship. There were so many papers on their intuition and creativity, …but few rebuttals.

T'Sala appeared to accept his answer. Omitting information was not a lie in itself, after all.

~000~

Day one was officially over, and Iris felt like her whole body had been broken. And if it was like that now, tomorrow would be even worse.

Her stomach held a veritable Vulcan forest from all the replicated meals. She'd kill for a milkshake and plate of cheese fries. For now, a long hot bath would do. Unfortunately, it would have to wait as she encountered a stranger upon entering her quarters.

He stood with his back to her, laying out clothes on her bed. She noticed right away he'd moved her stuff to the bed farthest away from the bathroom.

"Hello?" she said, and he finally turned to look at her.

He was standard Vulcan height, with dark eyes and a trim body. His face was vaguely familiar, but Iris couldn't place where she'd seen him before.

"Greetings. I am Sobek, but you may address me as lieutenant."

Maybe it was his accent – haughtier than a run of the mill Vulcan – but she suddenly remembered where she'd been him before. A holoreel!

"Aren't you…aren't you Ambassador Stulan's son?"

"I am," he said, and she could have sworn she saw the corner of his mouth tick upwards.

"Wow…so it's like we have royalty on ship."

"I _am_ of noble blood," he said, and her eyes grew even wider.

"Well, welcome," she said. He responded with a curt nod and returned to his unpacking.

Iris walked to the other bed, which was apparently hers now. So she had a roommate; one who was practically famous but also kind of a jerk that didn't ask before moving her stuff. Not that it mattered. She didn't mind which bed she had. And this was a good thing. Perhaps a roommate would help her make friends! Well, whatever passed for friendship between Vulcans.

"I thought lieutenants got their own quarters?" She asked.

Sobek didn't respond, but dropped his suitcase to the floor and kicked it under the bed with what seemed like more force than was necessary.

 


	4. Training

She could just about kill him.

The urge to commit murder _may_ have sprung faster than normal in Iris. Truthfully, she wasn't in a good headspace. It had been 5 days, but already it felt like 5 months. Her carefully stockpiled resolve was nearly depleted.

But still…even in the best of circumstances she knew it'd be difficult to stand _him – ensign_ Sobek. When she'd discovered he was in fact an ensign and not a lieutenant, his response had been _'I never claimed that was my station, only that you should address me as such.'_ The absolute arrogance!

And now, for the third time that week, he was in the bathroom at 0630. Even though they had mutually agreed on the schedule and _he_ had requested the 0530 slot.

With an irritated groan, Iris shoved a clean uniform into her gym bag and took off to the commissary. She'd just have to get a shower in after her work out.

If only clashing schedules had been the worst part about _him_ , but no. One of the first things Sobek had done was delete all her programs off the replicator. Not only that, he password protected the editor and lectured her about ship 'safety'. It prompted her to re-read the handbook, and she had been right about the rules - all crewmembers were allotted free space on their personal replicators, and as long as the programs had been pre-approved (hers were), they could be added. So it was all nonsense! Sobek just wanted the extra space to add more of _his_ programs.

Still, she had to wait until a senior officer responded to her inquiry. For now, Sobek being an engineer meant she was at his mercy. She had one precious stick of deodorant left, but perhaps if she became ripe enough he'd allow her that one program.

~000~

Iris's thighs screamed as she lifted a small but dense crate of medical supplies off the ground. T'Ri had assigned her to the cargo bay all week. Her job was to supply the various departments with their requested items and keep track of the inventory.

4 years of studying at the academy and she was basically a delivery girl. It was demoralizing, albeit easy. But if she were ever going to get used to T'Kumbra's gravity, she'd need the extra strength building anyway.

Along with morning calisthenics, squadron 3 met everyday at 1730 for specialized training sessions. Iris took her place in the back, as usual. T'Ri rarely called on her to demonstrate sparing techniques, even though she was the most educated ensign in that area. The exclusion might've offended her more if the first demo hadn't ended with a young male getting his jaw broken. From then on, she was glad to be treated like a porcelain doll. It was an interesting look into their culture. After all, the Vulcans always spoke of their passivity and peaceful ways. But lo and behold…

T'Ri stood before them and explained the outline for next week, but Iris barely heard a word of it. Saturday morning called to her like a siren. She couldn't wait to sleep in until noon. As it were, she could've curled up on the rubber mat and napped like a baby. That is, until T'Sala and Captain Solok walked in.

All eyes were on Solok as he took a lirpa off the wall and inspected it. A male in front of Iris cracked his neck to the side, seemingly in preparation for a fight. She wondered if he knew something she didn't.

"As you've already noticed, we have a couple unique visitors tonight," T'Ri said, her voice louder than before. All attention snapped back to her, and she pursed her lips before continuing.

"Lt Commander T'Sala and Captain Solok are here to gauge your current skillset. They will continue to visit throughout the year to record our progress," T'Ri nodded to Solok, who then stepped forward.

"Some of you may already be apprised, but for those who are not – I offer a quarterly challenge to all security ensigns," Solok said, his eyes traveling throughout the crowd. Each Vulcan already had perfect posture, yet they straightened even more under his attention.

"Tonight I will spar with three of you. If any are able to win the match, he or she will be immediately promoted to lieutenant junior grade."

It was like someone had poured ice-cold water down Iris's top. So she _was_ out of the loop, and it was a big loop! Lt. junior grade was half a pip!

Solok paced in front of the crowd, twisting the lirpa in his hands. The big dog inside of Iris had woken up, and her mind flooded with victorious fantasies. It was at once exciting and dismaying. She watched his elegant fingers curl around the wood with practiced ease. No doubt he'd trained with that weapon since infancy. Not to mention his naturally superior strength and speed. There was absolutely no way she could win against him in an equal fight.

"Who accepts my challenge?"

Nearly every hand in the room shot up. It happened so fast. Iris barely caught Solok's nod, but a lone female stood in response.

She was almost his height, so they were matched in that. Iris knew Vulcan males and females generally possessed the same amount of physical strength. And their society practiced near perfect egalitarianism. It often made Iris wonder how Earth's history would've changed if human females had been as strong as their males.

T'Ri moved to stand beside T'Sala at the far end of the room. The young female bowed deep to Solok, and he acknowledged her with a nod.

Solok yelled something indecipherable by Iris's communicator, and it was so sudden that she gasped. She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath.

The two Vulcans circled each other. The female appeared more determined than Solok. Her posture was low, but he didn't sink to that same level. Suddenly, the woman cried out and rushed him. Iris wasn't sure what the yell accomplished, other than letting him know she was coming. Possible intimidation? It was an odd choice for a species supposedly above that sort of fear-based reactionism.

The ensign swung her lirpa low, clearly intending to get him across the stomach. Iris's eyes widened. A part of her had thought they'd just use the blunt end of the melee weapons. Solok jumped back and swung around, catching her in the jaw.

Green blood sprinkled the mat. The female's mouth was cut, and she'd nearly fallen over. But she still held on to the weapon.

She stepped back, and Solok allowed her reprieve. He stood twirling the lirpa as he had before. Iris thought it was kind of showy. His body language read as if he weren't taking the match seriously. If it were her up there, she'd be offended. But Vulcans didn't assume emotion in other Vulcans, so she was probably reading too much into it.

The female lunged again, but this time the two got caught up in a fast-paced back and forth. Their staffs clacked together loudly. Every time one would try to swing, the other would catch it. Sometimes the movements happened so fast Iris couldn't even see them. Eventually, the tide turned on the poor female. Solok got her with an uppercut from his hammer end, and while she absorbed the hit, she left herself open. He locked his lirpa with hers, put a foot on her stomach and pushed. She was knocked back, and although she managed to fall on her side, she landed without a weapon; thus ending the battle.

In all the excitement Iris put her hands together, but luckily noticed the distinct lack of applause before doing it again. One male turned and raised a brow at her, and she sank down in embarrassment.

The female picked herself up and bowed once more to Solok. She left the room afterwards, likely en route to medical.

Solok went back to the crowd and once again all hands shot up. This time he chose a male, and one who was quite a bit beefier than he was.

The match began as it did last time, although here the challenger didn't fool with battle cries. They were up close almost instantly, clacking away. After some back and forth the ensign was able enter a strength hold. They held their bars across one another's, and the larger male attempted to use his size to force Solok down. For a moment it looked it would work, but the captain came back with an impressive surge. Iris idly wondered how much force was between their bars; likely enough to break human bones.

The young male looked briefly overwhelmed; Solok took full advantage and struck him with the blunt end of his weapon. When the ensign swung back, the captain caught his hand and shot forward to knee him in the stomach. It incapacitated him, and Solok used that to get him in position for a throw. The young male resisted, but it was no use. He was lifted up and slammed to the ground, landing on his free hand with a sickening snap. If Iris had to guess, that was the sound of at least three bones breaking.

Solok walked around the downed man, giving him a moment to get up. All eyes were on the ensign, but Iris watched with great surprise as Solok subtly _smirked_. He was _enjoying_ this. She couldn't hide the disgust on her face. Not even when he locked stares with her.

So far every Vulcan she'd met had been a complete jerk, and now she understood why; they were taking after their captain!

Iris knew perfectly well what Solok thought of emotions, which is why her expression felt deliciously defiant. But when he raised a brow at her, she suddenly remembered where she was and the look melted off her face.

The ensign groaned, and Iris turned her attention back to him. He held the lirpa in his working hand and still appeared determined to battle. She made a mental note to get his name; he seemed like her kind of people.

Solok circled the injured male like a wolf. It was clear who the winner would be, and Iris hoped he'd be quick. But no such luck. Solok mercilessly beat on the man, targeting the locations for several of their important organs. It was far more brutal than the last round, and Iris wondered if part of the tradition was that each battle grew in intensity.

Eventually, the ensign just dropped. His fist went slack, and the lirpa rolled out of his hand. The room was silent, but Iris was sure all the pointy ears could hear her wildly thumping heart.

Solok nodded to two males in the crowd who picked up their downed peer and led him out of the training room. This time it was certain they'd be on their way to medical.

Around Iris, Vulcans leaned into one another to whisper. She couldn't pick up what they were saying, so again her attention fell to Solok. He'd walked over near T'Sala. Obviously, he'd need a break after _that_.

T'Ri approached him with a glass. He accepted the drink, and Iris didn't miss how her hand brushed against his. She stood very close to the captain, and even from a distance Iris could see the corners of her mouth twitching like she had to fight to keep the smile away – it was pure adoration. All in all, Vulcan PDA was probably the mildest form she'd ever seen, but it still made her want to vomit.

The captain stood in front of the crowd again, and to Iris's great surprise all hands shot up once more. She moved to massage her temple in annoyance, when suddenly-

"Iris Wade," Solok said, and she felt as though all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.

"Y-yes?" she asked.

"You accept my challenge?"

She stared at the captain, mouth agape, for apparently too long.

"Was your hand not raised?" He asked softly.

It wasn't. It certainly wasn't. Iris looked around at all the ensigns focused on her, and she wanted to disappear.

"You may back down, if you wish. Terrans have a tendency for rash decisions. It would not be unprecedented."

Anger swirled in her gut. She'd been so good about avoiding conflict, but he'd found her weakness. She wasn't a fool, but she just _couldn't_ back down.

~000~

Solok watched as the little Terran stood. He didn't miss her slight tremble. As expected, his comment had stirred her emotions to the point where she was powerless against them. He knew her raised hand hadn't been meant as a challenge, but the opportunity to observe her in such a state had been too interesting to pass up.

She picked up the discarded lirpa and took a defensive stance in front of him.

If she had been Vulcan, he'd have thought her brave. Especially after witnessing what had happened to the last challenger. But since she lacked equal strength and speed, it was illogical for her to attempt. Unlike with her Vulcan peers, no amount of skill could enable her to win the match.

He made the decision in an instant.

"Because of the differences in Vulcan and Terran physiology, I will amend the rules for our fight," he said, and she looked surprised.

But it was only logical to make concessions. One of the most consistent criticisms he'd received on his earlier papers had been on the inequity between subjects. He had the outcome of this match calculated with 98.6% accuracy, but he did not want the results tarnished by a perceived lack of fairness.

"In order for me to win, I must knock the lirpa from your hand thrice. All you must do …is land one hit."

The human blinked, and her grip tightened around the bar.

"Do you accept?" He asked, and she nodded her agreement.

He signaled the start, and the battle began.

All previous challengers had aggressed on him, but this time would be different. The Terran eyed him up and down, but he didn't give her time to think. Instead, he charged.

~000~

Nearly 5 years ago, Iris had her ass handed to her by a Klingon 1st year. He'd been harassing her friend all night, and she'd finally had enough of Sarah trying to politely turn him down to no avail. The only thing Klingons responded to was violence, so that's what she provided. Using Andorian melee techniques, she'd been able to land a few potent hits. Eventually, his brute strength had won out. Still, Sarah walked away unmolested, and the Klingon had been kicked out of the academy.

Iris had thought being the target of a charging Klingon would be the scariest thing she'd ever experience.

She was wrong.

The last thing she saw before going airborne was the greenish blur of her Vulcan captain.

She landed with a crack. Pops of color danced in her vision, and she knew her back was going to be one big bruise tomorrow. It took a moment for her to realize the lirpa had flown from her hand.

She rolled to the side, and felt for signs of internal injury. When nothing seemed wrong, she moved to sit on her knees and leaned forward. The room spun, and for a moment she felt like vomiting.

"You may choose to forfeit at any time," Solok said.

On any other captain, a constant soft-tone would've been comforting. On him it was venomous.

Several somethings cracked as Iris stood up.

Solok watched her with his normal unaffected look. He paced away, throwing his weapon in the air and catching it. His lack of concern could not be more obvious; it was even more pronounced than it had been with the others.

Iris got back into defensive position, not that it'd do much. She was hopeless against his strength.

There had to be something else she could do.

~000~

The ensign appeared dizzy. It wouldn't take much to finish her, but Solok did not intend for the match to go quickly. The outcome was all but determined; the real fascination lied with her behavior.

The look in her eye during his first attack had been fearful, but then she stood up even angrier than before. She vacillated so quickly between opposite emotions, but neither one provided logical aid. After all, she had not yet forfeited. He remembered well Benjamin Sisko's unwillingness to give up. Certain Terrans did not like their pride wounded.

He charged again.

Curiously, she was not afraid. Her stance had firmed, but it wouldn't have mattered if he really wanted to knock her out. This time he didn't, but instead engaged in close combat. She was far slower than previous challengers, but he didn't overwhelm her. Instead, he worked with her. He allowed her to gain speed through the back and forth.

Her face rapidly reddened as they went on, and he didn't miss the sheen that had broken out over her brow. After 9 minutes and 47 seconds it was clear they had reached her physical capacity.

He locked their bars together and forced her back. Her eyes widened in surprise. Had she thought she was making headway? If so it was a foolish assumption, but perhaps the exertion combined with her rage had erased the small amount of logic Terrans possessed.

Her thin arms trembled to keep hold of the weapon, but he raised a boot to her midsection. She watched him, likely knowing full well what was coming.

He shoved her back same as he did with the first ensign, and wrenched the bar from her feeble hands.

He'd expected her to go down, but this time she took an ill-conceived swing at him. She'd gone from ensign to animal in exactly 13 minutes and 15 seconds. In Benjamin Sisko, the transformation had taken 20 minutes and 10 seconds. And he'd been younger than she.

He easily dodged her attack, and returned her aggression with a flick of his lirpa.

~000~

The hammer cracked over Iris's wrist. Pain shot all the way up her arm and into her neck; it was so pronounced that she barely felt her backend meet the floor. For a moment she sat, rocking the damaged appendage and sucking in air through her teeth.

"It is unwise to attempt an attack as you are falling," Solok said, and she couldn't help but sneer at him. He was right, though. She knew it.

"Perhaps you should take rest," he said. "You are unlikely to win in such an emotionally compromised state."

It was like music to her ears.

With a roar, she charged up again and grabbed the lirpa. As she ran towards him, his eyes narrowed just slightly. She was glad to have caught it. This time she was sure to recognize his tells.

Their bars connected again, and they picked up where they had left off. Her wrist sizzled in pain with each thrust and block, and tears welled up in her eyes.

It wasn't particularly hard to get riled up, or at least act like she was. Everything in the past week had gotten to her: the bad food, the grueling pace, the loneliness, the constant exercise, that damned heavy gravity, and the at-times overwhelmingly hot temperatures. Not to mention the fact that everyone underestimated her. But today she'd use that to her advantage.

She noticed when Solok put pressure on their bars. He was going in for the kill.

Iris took a quick step back and threw her lirpa into the air. As luck would have it, he took the bait. Solok's eyes went up; he was ready to grab it mid-air.

She threw herself at him clumsily and clutched the front of his uniform. His hands shot to her wrists, ready to stop an oncoming punch, but that wasn't what she had in mind. Instead, she thrust her knee upwards.

She didn't expect to do much damage, but she did aim for an area all humanoid males were sensitive in. Even Vulcans.

The captain's face was only inches from hers, so she got the full view when her hit landed. His mouth thinned to a line, his eyes widened, and his slanted brows shot up.

The reaction, albeit minimal, excited her. So she stuck again. _Harder._ The noise he made was somewhere between a grunt and a cough.

Her lirpa landed on top of them just as he violently shoved her away.

She was on her back again, and pretty sure there was blood pooling internally near her spine. But still, she held on to her weapon.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For inspiration, I've had 'Take Me Out to the Holosuite' on loop, so this was a satisfying scene to write. Let's be real, Solok deserved to get kneed in the jewels. At least twice.
> 
> And I swear…if writing this teaches me only one thing it's going to be how to spell 'lieutenant'.


	5. Rising and Falling

3 seconds.

From the time she had thrown her lirpa into the air - to her knee meeting his groin; it had taken 3 seconds.

In her emotionally compromised state, Solok hadn't expected a calculated plan. He'd lowered his guard and gotten presumptuous.

He would not make that mistake again.

Like all proper scientific work, nothing should be assumed factual. Terran behavior was no different. He'd studied them for decades, but as wise Vulcans before him had postulated, their kind's only constant was change.

After a humiliating scan of his reproductive organs by Konik in medical, Solok waited in his ready room. The Terran had suffered far worse injuries, but he requested her presence after the treatments.

He had every intention of living up to his word. She'd landed a hit. In an even more barbaric fashion than he thought their kind capable of, but still, she'd won the half pip.

~000~

Two broken bones in her wrist. A dislocated shoulder. Internal lacerations in both arms. Blunt force trauma to the liver, as well as sustained trauma in the back and shoulders. Multiple contusions.

When Iris was 16, she'd walked away from a hover car accident in better shape.

Konik had done all he could to heal her wounds, but warned that because her body had been in a fatigued state prior to the match, she may have some continued soreness or bruising. He'd told her to stop by the lab for further treatment at any point during the weekend, but she wasn't sure if she'd be awake during the next 48 hours.

She yearned for her bed like a Ferengi yearned for latinum. Still, Solok had requested a meeting with her.

Part of her brimmed with joy at the outcome of their match, but another was terrified of what he'd do. After all, not a lot of men could forgive someone for kicking them in the fun-zone.

When she got off the turbo lift, Iris's worry temporarily alleviated at the sight of the bridge.

It was _expansive_.

Unlike the Enterprise's (which she'd memorized at age 12 from the replica at the Science and Tech museum in San Francisco), T'Kumbra's was even more streamlined and slick. Seeing it in person was far different from reviewing its blueprints.

They were already utilizing 3d gesture monitors, and the window was the new triple-shielded wrap-around; it was so massive and clear. If she laid down in front it'd feel like she were floating through space with no ship at all.

The screens were lit up in gold with the beautiful Vulcan script. She'd noticed on her comm the ability to switch languages, but so far everything else had been in standard. Before coming aboard she'd done a crash-course review of Vulkansu. Turned out if she ever wanted on the bridge, she'd have to keep practicing.

T'Sala moved from her station and led Iris to the captain's ready room. If the chief of security had any opinion about Iris's win, she didn't mention it.

Solok's eyes met hers as soon as the door slid open. During the second match, Iris had seen him display a mild form of enjoyment. But now he was back to being blank, and she pined to know what was going on in his head.

When the door shut behind her, she jumped a little.

"At ease," he said and motioned to the chair in front of his desk.

The captain's ready room was sparse, but telling. Ancient weapons hung from the walls. Some of them even Iris didn't know, and she'd studied weaponry for two years at the academy. Displayed behind him was a replica of one of the first Enterprise-series spacecraft that the Vulcans built.

Iris sat down and threaded her fingers together to stop them from trembling. The captain laid down his PADD and regarded her coolly.

"The tactics you employed during our battle were …interesting," he said.

If it weren't for her suddenly dry throat, Iris would have said thanks. Luckily she didn't go with her automatic response, because after considering it for a moment, she realized he hadn't actually complimented her. She straightened up and willed herself calm.

"Do you speak of where I struck you? Because I do not regret my decision," she said.

He raised a brow at her.

"No, I do not speak of your _aim_. Rather, how you misdirected me."

"All warfare is based on deception. Hence, when we are able to attack, we must seem unable," she said, utilizing a quote she often thought about.

"Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak," Solok said.

Iris suppressed a smile.

"I am surprised you _deigned_ to read ancient Terran literature," she said, trying but failing to keep the venom out of her voice.

"As a captain, I have found it beneficial to study military strategists," he said in that typical light tone, but the sentiment was so obvious that Iris wondered if he meant it sarcastically. Was that even possible for their kind?

His eyes were slightly narrowed, and at her silence his left brow twitched upward.

Damn it! She was being mocked and couldn't even tell! She opened her mouth to speak, but he went on as if there hadn't been a pause-

"Of all species and time periods. The Terran Sun Tzu has proven relevant even today."

Iris was about to snipe back, but stopped when Solok retrieved a red clamshell box from his drawer. The insult she had in mind dissolved when he opened it, and she caught the unmistakable gold glint. She leaned forward but did not reach when he laid the half pip in front of her.

"As agreed. It is yours," he said.

Iris glanced up at him. It was like she was waiting for him to yell _"GOTCHA"_ and snap it back. But of course he didn't.

She picked it up and held it with both hands, cradling it as if it were the head of an infant. A sour feeling swirled in her gut.

"You may—"

"I can't accept this," she said, and the words fell out of her without a thought to cushion their fall.

Solok tilted his head to the side.

"You have earned it. As your people say, 'fair and square'," he said.

"But I didn't. Not really. And you watered down the challenge so much—"

"You do not want a promotion?" He asked.

"It's not that. I want one, of course," she said and rocked the little pip in her hand. "I want it so much—"

She thought of how proud her parents would be to hear the news. And word would probably spread around the academy as well. First Terran aboard T'Kumbra – prompted within one week! She'd be practically _renowned_.

She'd had plenty of fantasies about surging through the ranks of Starfleet, and becoming a young captain like her idol James T. Kirk. But as good as she felt about the win, if she were being honest, it _had_ been a cheap shot.

So if she accepted, it wouldn't be skill or heroism that earned her the title…

"—but not like this."

Slowly, and with heavy uncertainty, she placed the pip back on his desk.

"I want to earn it the right way," she said.

"That is noble, however, it would be illogical to turn down a promotion based on such emotional reasoning."

Iris laughed, but it was without humor. "I'm certainly emotional. You've got me there. But my reasoning isn't. Because if this isn't properly earned, then that means I'm unprepared for it. And it would be illogical to accept a role that I cannot fulfill."

Solok did not speak for a short while, and her resolve wavered as he stared. He seemed to be studying her.

"That is …logical," he said finally.

Iris watched, not without a little remorse, as he put the pip back in his desk.

~000~

For the second time that day, the young Terran had surprised him.

She'd been right, after all. An ensign of one week had no business being promoted. He knew that when he'd designed the challenge, however, in the 6 years he'd administered it, no one had ever _beaten_ him.

He was a skilled fighter and sure of his ability over any Vulcan ensign. For now, the challenge would remain. But the rules for non-Vulcans would be modified in the future, if that situation ever presented itself again.

Still, her conclusion fascinated him. Did all Terran logic have roots in emotion? Perhaps that was the core of their famed 'intuition'?

Solok took further notes for his paper. He wasn't yet sure how to interpret the data. For the moment, it would have to wait.

He left his ready room and relieved V'Lido of command.

"Report," Solok said, addressing the science officer who stood behind him at the main console.

"Emissions have tapered off, sir. But we've begun picking up a tonal pattern."

"Analysis?"

"We're in the process of deciphering, but its consistency suggests a distress call."

"A logical assumption. If they've previously discharged weapons, perhaps they've been attacked. Are there any signs of another craft?"

"None, sir. It's possible the attacker is in possession of a cloaking technology."

Solok stared ahead at the blackness. They were well within Federation territory. If someone were here and using cloaking technology, then they were illegally cruising.

"Any update to our estimated time of arrival?"

"Based on previous calculations, we are two days, six hours, and 32 minutes from encounter with the unknown craft. However, it's possible they have increased speed or changed direction since then. It would be inconsistent with their patterns so far, but it cannot be ruled out. If we lose the tonal pattern, we would know for sure."

"Very well," Solok said, and nodded to the helmsman to keep a steady course.

~000~

Iris's hands shook as she tried to open the purple bottle. Her body was so stiff and weak – the sonic shower had done little to soothe her muscles. Her naked legs trembled so she sat down to apply lotion.

When her bottom met the toilet lid, pain radiated up her spine. She'd fallen on her ass so much that all the bruising had collected there and on the backs of her thighs. Kind of a scandalous placement, actually. As if she'd done something other than _spar_ with the captain. The thought made her shriek with laughter.

After slicking up her dry appendages, she rose with a groan and staggered to the bedroom. Almost as soon as she entered, so did Sobek.

She'd cranked the temperature down to 60 while he was gone, and she saw him stiffen in response to the cold.

"Do me a favor and leave it on until I'm asleep, okay?"

"I am only here to retrieve my tools. You may keep the room as chill as you require for the next 3 hours," he said.

"Thanks. I'll probably be asleep for two days or so …just letting you know," she said and cringed as she sat on the bed, however, her expression quickly melted into ecstasy when she sank into the soft mattress.

Sobek watched the emotional display with disgust he would not show.

"I cannot promise silence for that amount of time," he said.

"Good thing I'm a heavy sleeper," she said.

Sobek retrieved what he sought, but paused at the door. He turned back, his stare focused on the Terran. It was obvious to Iris that he wanted something, but it was strange for the arrogant prick not to come out with it.

"What? You want to read me a bedtime story?" she asked, but he ignored her antagonistic remark.

"Is it true? Did you—" his lip twitched, "— _injure_ the captain?"

"I think so. At least a little bit," she said.

If Iris didn't know better, she'd've thought he was happy to have it confirmed.

"So you are now a junior lieutenant?"

She didn't think she'd regret her decision so quickly. But damned if she didn't want her pompous roommate to think she'd landed a promotion before him. She thought about how to respond, and she knew she shouldn't lie…

"From now on you may address me as such," she said with a wry smile.

~000~

On Sunday evening Solok sat in his quarters, settling into meditation. Around him lit incense filled the room with the familiar scent of home. From speakers in the walls came a soothing arrangement of Vulcan percussion instruments. He'd just begun to untangle his thoughts and emotions when a ding sounded at the door. Irritation rippled through his chest, but he smoothed it out quickly.

"Enter," he said.

"I apologize for the intrusion, captain. I am early," came T'Ri's voice.

"It is no matter," Solok said, rising from his seated position. His meditation robes swirled around him, and the silken material rubbed against his bare flesh in a pleasing way. He was not yet ready to change back into his restrictive captain's uniform, but it was untoward to be so casual in front of an unbonded female.

"You may choose anything from the replicator. I will be back in a moment."

"I do not mind if you wear robes," T'Ri said.

"I do," he said and, without looking back, retreated to the bathroom.

When Solok reemerged he found T'Ri seated on the couch. She held a tumbler full of a light blue liquid, despite there being nothing like that in the replicator.

He downloaded her edited paper to a couple of PADDs and sat beside her. Unprompted, she poured him a drink.

Out of curiosity, he accepted it and took a whiff. His eyes widened, "this is Romulan ale."

"It is," she said. "Since the treaty between our peoples has held, I have attempted to experience more of their culture. I have taken a liking to their drinks."

Solok sat the glass on the table. He had no intention of partaking in _Romulan_ beverages, but he would not begrudge his staff. He handed her a PADD and flicked his on.

"If you'll forward to section 23, we can begin to evaluate your secondary statement. I've left a few key—" he stopped speaking the moment he felt her hand on his thigh. He gave her exactly 3 seconds to desist. When she did not, he gently took her wrist and placed her hand back on the couch.

"Lieutenant, I have told you 4 times - refrain from this behavior. If you do not, I will be forced to end our sessions."

"You say this, but thrice you have accepted nourishment from me," she said, almost eagerly.

"Each time a beverage, which hardly constitutes an offering."

"Solok, my time draws near."

The PADD slipped from his hand and landed on the carpet with a soft thud. He made no move to pick it up. And he barely registered that she'd addressed him so informally.

"…your name was not on Konik's list for departures," he finally said.

"That is because I hid it from him," she said.

He shifted back from her, fully staring now.

Her spine was straight as an arrow, and she held her head high. She clasped the blue drink in her lap, and only the rippling of the liquid keyed him into her trembling.

"That is an offense worthy of demotion," he said.

"I am aware."

"So why?"

She shifted closer to him tentatively.

"I require a mate. I choose you."

"T'Ri, as I have stated before I do not wish to take a mate at this time."

"You have yet to give a logical reason for this," she said, and he wanted to scream. Instead, he stood up and took several steps away from her.

"The reasons are mine alone," he said rather forcefully, which prompted her to avert her gaze. But he was not the sort of man who dealt with women harshly, so he continued in a softer tone. "I regret any offense I have caused, but you must choose another."

"There is no other for me here or on Vulcan," she said.

"That cannot be true. You possess many virtues—"

"But none so great as my one offense," she said, quickly standing and crossing the distance between them. Her eyes filled with yearning, and it was then he saw the truth of her dangerous condition.

"Solok," she began, her tone dripping with emotional pleading. "You take in so many like me aboard T'Kumbra—"

She was correct, but he was displeased she saw through him. He fought hard against the suspicion, as it was something that could cost him the captaincy.

Just like she had, he'd come from the outer regions. He saw the limited opportunity for those of their station. It wasn't so long ago that their options would have few. 100 years prior and his highest aspiration might've been as a cook or farmhand on some ancient clan's estate.

And that had been at the back of his mind each time the science academy had rejected him – was it on account of his academic record, or because of his low status?

Vulcans had fought against emotion for millennia, but the old hierarchies had yet to crumble. Those with the privileges, or even a modicum of them, were desperate to hold on. It was purely illogical.

"I know you want to give us a chance we wouldn't typically have. It is logical, no matter what some—"

"If you had stayed on Vulcan you could have utilized a priest during your time," he said, ignoring her statement.

"I could not," she said firmly. "A priest would not accept me. I have spent my whole life alone, and he would sense my need to bond permanently. He would not place himself at such risk. Do you not see you are my only chance? No male will accept a female who has no clan…"

T'Ri gently placed her hands on his chest. Her plea struck a chord with him, for he knew the truth in her words.

Even he had not overcome such obstacles. He had a father and extended family. T'Ri had no one. It was the absolute worst situation for a Vulcan. Even a family who had defected had more leeway than a clan-less woman.

Her hands slid down his arms, finding his fingertips and sending shockwaves of pleasure through him.

It wasn't as if she'd make an unacceptable wife. Aesthetically she possessed everything a Vulcan should be. Even pre-reform sculptures of goddesses paled in comparison to her beauty.

But what would his father say? As soon as he'd made captain, Solok had practically heard the blueprints being drawn in that man's head. Kiryc knew his son's success could be their ticket out of the dust. Meanwhile he'd been against every decision Solok had made since primary education.

_Now_ Kiryc regularly inserted himself into situations that had nothing to do with him. After all, _he_ was the reason Sobek had come aboard. Using his tenuous connection with Admiral Letek to force a position for that underwhelming engineer – it was practically a betrayal!

A burning spread throughout his chest. Was that the real reason he rejected T'Ri? Because of his _father's_ opinion?

"Solok," she whispered, closing the gap between them. Their fingertips pressed firmly together. He looked down into her dark eager eyes.

It would be so easy to claim her. And it would be immeasurably pleasurable.

"T'Ri," he said.

"Captain," V'Lido's voice cut through the tension with an emergent ding.

Solok instantly tapped back on his communicator.

"Yes?"

"Your presence is required on the bridge. We have reached the unknown ship."

"I will be there shortly," Solok said.

With a cleansing exhale, he took a step back from T'Ri.

She looked so lost, but he had a duty to perform. He moved to the exit and stopped before triggering the doors. He pressed his comm once more.

"Konik, I am sending you Lt. T'Ri. Please evaluate her health and take appropriate measures," he said.

"Yes, sir," Konik replied promptly.

"Your orders are to report to medical," Solok said, turning back to face T'Ri.

She stared at him, and it took her exactly 4 seconds to respond.

"Understood, captain."

~000~

Iris was roused from her sleep by a constant dinging.

"Enter!" she cried.

In came an engineer equipped with a small toolkit. Obviously, it was one of her roommate's friends.

"Sobek isn't here right now," she said and turned over in bed.

"I am not here for anyone," he said. "I have been given orders to remove the locks on your replicator."

With that, Iris sat up. Her clothes were disheveled and there was a patch of dried drool on her cheek, but she was too dumbstruck to care about any of that.

"Really?" she said.

"Yes, if you will allow?"

"Of course," she said.

The engineer turned and sat his tools on the table. For the next 20 minutes he did not use them, but instead tapped away on the console beside the replicator.

Iris watched him with rapt curiosity. She attempted to memorize what he entered, but it was futile. She had taken only one programming course, and whatever language the replicators were in did not resemble what she'd learned.

"Are there any programs you'd like me to load?"

"Yes!" she said, and grabbed the two memory sticks she had stowed away in her suitcase.

The engineer plugged one into the replicator, "It should only be a few more minutes."

"By the way –," she began, "thank you for replying to my inquiry. Figured I'd have to wait a couple weeks."

"You are correct. I have several requests each day, but yours was given priority," he said.

"Really? Is replicator-access an emergency situation?"

"It is not," he said.

"So why did the chief of engineering prioritize it?" At that point the engineer stopped what he was doing and turned to look at her.

" _I_ am the chief of engineering, and I did not forward your request. My orders are from the captain."

Iris's mouth fell open.

"I'm sorry - I don't think we've met," she said.

"I know who you are," he said. "I am—"

"Tuval – I know from the roster," she said.

He nodded and returned to his work. But Iris was still overwhelmed.

"You said the _captain_ ordered you here? Why would he do that?"

"I did not question his orders," he said. "He has access to all ship logs, so I presumed a logical reason for his intervention."

Iris was confused. She couldn't figure a reason for Solok's behavior. If he were human, she'd think it kind. Not that Vulcans were incapable of kindness, but their moral code rarely demanded they go so above and beyond. And commanding the chief of engineering to take care of an ensign's minor request was certainly out there. _Especially_ after she'd beaten him.

"I have completed the work," Tuval said.

"Thank you! And now that it's back, may I offer you something to drink?"

Tuval quirked a brow at the ensign.

"That will not be necessary," he said and turned back to the replicator. He tapped it on and displayed the home screen to her.

"I have removed the locks as well as the ability to password-protect. All your programs are here, but I have deleted everything else. The percentage of space used by your roommate was well over half, so he will need to decide what he truly requires."

Iris smiled tightly. Oh, she couldn't wait to see Sobek's reaction. Not that her roommate ever provided much in the way of emotional displays, but he was such a brat. It would be nice to relay the news and _know_ he'd be seething inside.

After Tuval left, Iris scrolled through the new options. All her items looked so beautiful twirling around in the preview window. She decided to celebrate the glorious win, and chose one of her most superfluous objects.

Iris cooed as she sunk into the rose-scented bubbles. It was clear; real water was what she needed all along. Sonic showers did little for sore muscles. She laid back and felt each ache evaporate. The freshly replicated bath oil helped relieve the tension in her mind as well. Why did she ever take showers, again? Oh, right. The time. And the drying process. Still, she dipped her head back and let her hair soak.

"Thank you, _captain_ ," she said languidly.

~000~

"Report," Solok said as he swept onto the bridge.

"Our calculations were off by 5 hours. As you see, they have stopped cruising."

Solok stared out at the ship. They'd already done a magnification, so he could see its dilapidated state. There were patches of different metalloids all along the side. It had taken extensive damage in the back, with almost the whole stern caved in. He had no idea how it was still functioning.

"Signs of life?"

"We have detected 54, sir. Humanoid."

"No shields?"

"Not anymore."

There was a partially covered insignia on the front. What could be seen was unrecognizable.

Whoever they were, they were helpless.

"Have we attempted communication?"

"We have, but they have not yet responded."

Solok nodded to the communications officer, who opened a channel.

"This is captain Solok of the USS T'Kumbra. We do not recognize your vessel, but have detected a weapons discharge. Are you in ne—"

The screen flickered on, and Solok found himself staring at a mirror version of himself.

~000~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s better than one Solok? TWO OF THEM. 
> 
> So, I’m really sorry for the insanely long breaks between chapters. Work has been kicking my butt, and as much as I’d like to promise faster output, I’m not sure that’ll be possible for a while. I’m still writing! Just being a slow poke about it. But on the bright side…
> 
> As I mentioned before, I had been keeping the ep ‘Take Me Out to the Holosuite’ on loop for inspiration. Well, I noticed the actor playing Solok seemed taller than Avery Brooks (Sisko). I looked up how tall Avery Brooks was and turns out he’s 6’1! So Gregory Wagrowski (guy who played Solok) has to be like 6’2/6’3 or something. I can’t look that up, unfortunately. There’s not much info of him online, BUT I will be using this newly noticed detail. So you’re going to hear more about how big and burly Solok is. And I think that’ll be funner. ;) 
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos, guys! They keep me going. Hopefully I can keep this interesting for you all. :)


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